Crimson

 

Crimson and I have a complicated relationship. She’s the newest of our group, and, by far, the most financially privileged. She’s more of Skull’s and Bunny’s friend than mine, but we have a little bit more going for us than just mutual respect. She’d moved here last year, and started school that fall, like the rest of us. Unlike the rest of us, though, she didn’t know anyone at all, let alone her way around the school. Skull had found her wandering around just seconds before first bell, practically in tears. Fortunately, they’d chanced to have a similar schedule. She walked into study hall that morning after Skull, all smiles and shiny chains. Her eye caught mine, and we talked.

I have more in common with her than with any of the others. This is probably why we aren’t as close as we could be. Neither of us finds it necessary to whine about our problems much. We’re both pretty secretive and willing to give others the spotlight most of the time. We’re alike down to our habit of drinking mochas when we’re out. As I said before, we both like to dress Bunny up; an action which puts most of the emphasis on the other person.

So, the night of my second victim’s death, I was surprised to find us sitting together alone while Skull and Bunny jumped into the crowd at the foot of the stage. I sipped my water.

“D’you like ‘em?” She asked loudly, which is the only way to ask something at a concert.

I shrugged. “They’re good.”

“I thought you had to finish homework, I was afraid you wouldn’t come.” Her eyes were wide and honest.

I smiled. “Yeah, the stuff looks harder than it really is.” I wasn’t lying about finishing the homework; it had taken me about an hour to complete what should have taken me thirty minutes.

“I know. It’s pretty brutal stuff.” She looked out into the crowd. “Are you happy?”

“Yeah, are you?”

She shook her head. “Mostly. Feel like listening?”

I nodded, and was instantly pulled outside, to the alley that had been blocked off and reserved for people from inside to use when they felt the need to smoke, or just breathe. I prepared myself for the inevitable monologue.

“It’s not that I don’t love Bunny and Skull, and you, but I think I seriously need help. I feel all depressed all the time; when I see couples walking together, holding hands or laughing or whatever. It makes me kind of mad, because I look like this, and I can’t get a date, you know? I mean, every guy I’ve ever asked or thought about asking has rejected me. It’s like I’m not good enough, like I’ll be the friend girl forever and no one will ever see me as anything more.” She left off there, and breathed several times.

I hugged her. This surge of emotion for her within me was rare. “I know, babe. I know.”

She sighed and then trembled. “That’s why I told you.”

“You’re too down on yourself, sweetie. It’s not the way you look that gets you rejected, it’s that guys are pricks.” I still had trouble believing that myself, but it sounded good.

“You don’t think I’m ugly?”

I stared at her. “No. I think you’re beautiful.” That was the honest truth. She had a smile that lit up any room, and although she was chubbier than I am, her figure was balanced and graceful.

She sniffled and resumed crying. “Thank you!” Her voice shakily inquired “Can I tell you something else?”

I nodded.

“I have a problem. A big eating problem. You know how I never eat lunch?”

I nodded.

She continued, “I’ve counted calories for months, almost a year. It hasn’t gotten me anywhere, except a few pounds lighter, but it’s not worth it. I eat a little less than normal, and then…” Her eyes went wide and sad. “I eat a lot when I get upset, and I throw it all back up.” She smiled, slightly. “This is the first time I’ve ever been able to admit that it’s a problem.”

I stared in shock, and hugged her again. “Do you want help?”

“Yes, but no doctors.”

I knotted my fingers into her silky hair. “Ok. No doctors.” I promised.

She bawled, and I held her for the half an hour that she was breaking down. By the time we went back inside, a different band was finishing their set. I’d agreed not to tell the others unless she got much, much worse. Your habit isn’t as terrible as mine. I thought. In that instant, I decided to give up on my killing, at least for a while.

Reviews

[Brie]

I liked it! Such a heartfelt chapter. I like that you incorporate her "business" with her social life.
-Brie